


You Make Me Feel So High

by DarkUniverse



Series: Universe [1]
Category: Pentagon (Korea Band)
Genre: Calm yourselves, I know we're all thirsty for this ship, I'm not evil what are you talking about?, It's implied they're present, Light HuiDawn for now, M/M, They just don't play much part plot-wise, You can count on more to come, other members are mentioned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-10
Updated: 2017-08-10
Packaged: 2018-12-13 20:14:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11767521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkUniverse/pseuds/DarkUniverse
Summary: There's this thing Hwitaek does that drives Hyojong insane.





	You Make Me Feel So High

**Author's Note:**

> Title is actually a lyric from "Energetic" because Hwitaek deserves to be recognized as a composer. Can we just appreciate how talented he is? Pentagon in general is overflowing with talent, am I right? Help me. I am obsessed. Anyway, here you go~ My official contribution to this beautiful fandom ^^

There’s this thing Hwitaek does that drives Hyojong insane. And Hwitaek must be aware of the effect this little habit of his has on Hyojong, because he keeps doing it, relentlessly, every chance he gets. Hyojong might just punch him for it.

 

Or kiss him, depending on his mood. Really, there’s no telling what he’ll do, but at this rate he’ll have to do _something_. Because the older man just has no control what so ever.

 

Take today for example.

 

They’ve been invited to a radio show, one of those that has cameras all around the studio so even if the focus should be on talking, they still have to look flawless. More importantly, they have to behave. Relatively. That order comes from their manager and as long as it’s not from the President himself, they’re safe.

 

Their morning starts with hair and make-up as usual, and once that’s done, in surprising peace, their stylists flock around them like crows as they determine what each of them will be wearing for the day. Not for the first time since Pentagon started appearing on camera and actually requiring a stylist, Hyojong is instructed to wear ripped jeans, paired with a plain black and white T-shirt and his own black sneakers. It’s not an uncommon outfit for him, nor is it fancy in any way, but it suits him and it’s fairly comfortable to spend time in, so he’s satisfied. The holes in these new jeans are a little bigger and larger in number than any other pair he’s worn, but he doesn’t pay it much mind, knowing his lower half will be covered by the table the entire interview anyway.

 

Deemed ready, Hyojong finds a quiet corner in the break room and focuses on leafing through the script while he waits for the others to finish. Distracted as he is scanning the papers for his name and trying to figure out what’s in store for him this time around, Hyojong doesn’t notice anyone else is in the room. Until he hears Hwitaek’s sweet voice, not unlike melted chocolate, melodic as it is even when he isn’t singing, whispering in his ear.

 

“Hyojong-ah.”

 

He tenses as he feels the older press into his side like a teddy bear with magnets inside its stuffing drawn to a metal pole. Risking a glance at his hyung, Hyojong almost chokes on his own saliva.

 

“What are you doing here all alone?” Hwitaek inquires and his voice is almost as smooth as the velvety heat burning darkly in his irises. Before he’s even fully comprehended the question, there’s a large palm sliding along his thigh, the heat of Hwitaek’s skin hot against Hyojong’s mostly exposed leg.

 

“Just going over the script,” he replies, voice steady, but breath wavering slightly when Hwitaek’s hand reaches his upper thigh, dangerously close to his crotch. The realization hits him like a train wreck and he wonders why he didn’t foresee this. Hwitaek apparently has some kind of a kink for ripped jeans and his obsession has already made itself known one too many times. Apparently they do strange things to him. Hyojong is convinced he needs professional help.

 

The heat of Hwitaek’s palm is so distracting Hyojong doesn’t even notice at first that the older man has leaned towards him, nose almost buried in the crook of his neck. When he feels Hwitaek’s lips brush against the sensitive skin there, he almost jumps out of his skin, his pulse skyrocketing alarmingly quickly.

 

Right at that moment, as if the heavens have heard his prayer, their manager swings the door open and Hwitaek sits upright as if suddenly possessed by the soul of the responsible leader he’s supposed to be. Hyojong finally breathes. Immediately their manager goes off about something that flies entirely over Hyojong’s head while his scattered thoughts attempt to find their way back into some semblance of order inside his mind.

 

He curses their stylists silently the entire half hour he has to wait for the broadcast to start.

 

 

* * *

 

 

It doesn’t get better once the cameras are on. Of course, Hyojong knows well enough that cameras have never stopped their leader from making grabby hands at whatever member is closest to him, but he might have hoped he’d have more luck this time and actually avoid this. Not that Hyojong has anything at all against touching his members, he’s no stranger to that, it’s just that today, in particular, he has a premonition Hwitaek will be insufferable.

 

Of course the staff makes them sit next to each other, of course the studio is too small for a group of so many members, so of course Hyojong ends up all but squished against the leader. And of course Hwitaek’s hand is on his thigh before his butt has even fully settled into the chair. None of this surprises Hyojong to be honest, because he’s never believed in his luck anyway. Not when it comes to this.

 

Objectively, compared to all of his little quirks, some of which are very peculiar, skinship is everything that is essentially Hwitaek. This is something they’ve all learned and accepted fairly quickly after they met their leader to-be back when they were all just clueless trainees. It also goes without saying that their group is, in general, prone to a lot, _a lot_ , of touching. This is also something they are used to. So, objectively, Hyojong has no right to complain when Hwitaek spends the first twenty minutes of the interview rubbing his thighs, squeezing his knees and overall molesting his legs underneath the table. Fortunately all of this passes unnoticed, well away from sharp lenses and eyes of the staff.

 

Every so often Wooseok clears his throat in Hwitaek’s direction when the older starts trailing his fingers along Hyojong’s inner thighs, successfully averting the man’s attention and giving Hyojong a chance to squirm away from the touch. Hyojong even considers grabbing Hwitaek’s hand beneath the table in order to keep those thirsty fingers occupied and thus save his legs, but he quickly realizes that would be too obvious and the cameras definitely wouldn’t miss it. Nor would their fans.

 

Hyojong belatedly realizes he’s been completely silent after the initial introduction when the host urges him to speak up after the announced break. He nods in a daze, promising to be more active in the second part of the interview, desperately trying not to show how buzzed Hwitaek’s ministrations are making him. The slow drag of the older man’s fingers over his exposed skin is intoxicating. Not that he’d ever admit it.

 

The short break doesn’t help him cool down because he doesn’t get the chance to get away from the table and even though Hwitaek spends the entire time chatting with the host, his fingers are tireless in their mission to rile Hyojong up. He wonders if his hyung is doing this on purpose, or if it’s just utterly natural to him to manhandle his members. Then again, he doesn’t think Hwitaek’s ever done this to the others.

 

True to his word, Hyojong makes an effort to participate in the interview as the second part commences, answering any questions the host asks him without any mistakes despite Hwitaek’s relentless distraction. He stutters on a word and then immediately forgets everything he was about to say when Hwitaek dips his fingers _inside_ the big hole on his right thigh and _scratches_ the sensitive skin there.

 

He shoots a look at the leader which he hopes is as scolding as he wills it to be, but Hwitaek just looks back at him, blinking his wide eyes wide in a perfect picture of innocence, seemingly waiting for him to continue his story. Hyojong forces his mind back on track and stumbles through his response quickly. He sighs in relief, thankful, when the attention bleeds onto Hyunggu and the conversation carries on. With everyone’s eyes now off him, he turns to shoot another poorly concealed glare at his hyung, only to find smoldering brown eyes already on him.

 

He breaks out in a cold sweat. That look. He’s never seen Hwitaek with _that_ look, not even when he’s doing a “sexy dance” on stage, trying to give as many fans as he can permanent heart problems. That look is dangerous, Hyojong quickly concludes and looks away. Suddenly, he feels hot all over.

 

Hwitaek’s fingers trace his skin so lightly he almost strains to feel them, his nerves tingling. He works his jaw through the sensation, praying it’ll pass soon as he attempts to actually pay attention to what is going on around him. He thinks the current topic of discussion is Hongseok and Jinho’s love of food, but he can’t be entirely sure while being subjected to this torture. For a breathless moment the fingers are gone and Hyojong almost hopes that this is it, that this is when his hyung will finally give him a break. A relieved sigh is right on the tip of his tongue when-

 

Hwitaek pushes his fingers underneath the material of his jeans and slides his nails roughly against the skin of Hyojong’s upper thigh, and he has to bite on his tongue to silence a surprised yell. Hwitaek doesn’t stop there and his fingers slide further in, closer and closer to his boxers and ultimately the one part of him that his hyung has never touched before. Hwitaek’s fingers stop just short of his crotch and Hyojong finds he can’t breathe again. A full-body shiver runs through him and he has to close his eyes and squeeze his mouth shut.

 

He feels a familiar heat pooling in his stomach, spreading through his body like lava and slowly travelling towards his crotch. This is not a situation he would have imagined himself to be in. Ever. Especially not at the hands of his hyung. And why is Hwitaek trying to make him hard in the middle of an interview? He has to know what he’s doing to Hyojong, this can’t possibly be random or mindless. The hooded eyes of Pentagon’s leader, locked on Hyojong with an intensity he’s never seen before, tell the truth.

 

 _He’s doing this on purpose_ , the rapper realizes, dread settling heavily in his throat. He tries to swallow around it, but he finds he still can’t draw a breath properly. Hwitaek’s palm is still burning hot on his skin, his fingers are still dangerously close to his most intimate part and Hyojong goes through an entire list of curses in his head in order to calm himself down.

 

“And that’s all for today guys!” The host announces and the rest of the members cheer, the noise shooting through Hyojong’s head like a bullet. He almost screams in relief. “Thank you all for listening, please support Pentagon!”

 

The moment Hwitaek’s hand leaves Hyojong’s leg, the younger man almost bursts into tears. He shuffles through their signature goodbye and all but catapults himself out of his seat, the first to rise up. He wants to hightail it out of the studio, but everyone insists on a photo so he escapes to Yan An’s side and allows Changgu to smother him in his arms, grimacing through the picture-taking and praying to all deities for the moment to end soon. Before he ends _himself_.

 

He hurries out when they’re finally allowed to leave, ignoring Shinwon’s questioning eyes and all but runs to the cars. He’s waiting impatiently for someone to unlock the doors of the vehicle so he can climb inside and die in peace when he feels someone press against his back. Of course.

 

“Had fun today?” Hwitaek’s voice is honey in his ear, his warm breath washing over Hyojong’s exposed neck and all but ripping his soul right out of his jittery body. The older man is gone an instant later, already ten feet away and chatting with their manager about the rest of their schedule, and Hyojong decides.

 

He’s going to _kill_ Hwitaek.

**Author's Note:**

> This story, as well as more to come, will all be part of a series, which I'll explain later on. I have no idea what I'm doing right now anyway. But I'm addicted to this group (save me!) and this fandom is in serious need of more stories. Come on friends, contribute! Also, check out RisingSun and BananaUniverse, they're devoted Pentagon fans, too and their stories are great! Love you~ <3


End file.
